The boy tilted his head back to look up at her, his eyes filled with a fear he couldn’t quite conceal.
Enoch was afraid. Whether he feared death or whatever had driven him out into the bitter winter cold, she couldn’t tell. But there was no mistaking his fear.
That was what finally swayed her.
Just then, a gust of wind swept past, ruffling the boy’s hair.
His flowing red hair stood out vividly against the pure white snow, making him impossible to ignore.
“…”
Sarah fell silent for a moment, her gaze caught by the sight.
It was a name she recognized.
No, she had known who the boy was even before he introduced himself.
After all, in the vast Soser Imperial Palace, he was the only one with red hair.
Enoch Soser.
A prince of mixed blood, fifteenth in line, born without a shred of power.
The only reason this insignificant boy hadn’t been slaughtered by his half-brother, the Emperor, was his remarkable skill with a sword, even at such a young age.
The greedy Emperor often declared that he would raise the boy well and someday send him to the front lines of a war of conquest.
“…Come in.”
Having finally found a suitable excuse, Sarah pretended to relent and opened the door.
“Thank you.”
Enoch bowed politely and stepped into Sarah’s room.
A faint look of relief crossed his face. For the first time, he looked like a child his age.
Thud. Before Sarah could even close the door and turn around, the boy collapsed onto the floor, having made it safely indoors.
Considering he had endured the snowy outdoors with scarcely any protection against the cold, it was hardly surprising.
She considered leaving him where he lay, but that seemed too cruel after inviting him in. So she dragged him over to the fireplace.
Before long, a little color returned to his pale face.
Looking down at his pitiful face, Sarah muttered to herself, words the boy couldn’t hear.
“…You really have a wretched life.”
That was as far as her sympathy went.
Beyond that, she consciously avoided wondering why he had ended up in such a situation.
She had enough trouble managing her own life.
Fortunately, before Sarah could get too annoyed, the Emperor’s attendant arrived and took Enoch away.
The attendant who came for the boy thanked her politely, saying the prince would’ve frozen to death if not for her efforts.
It was such a rare occasion for her to have done something like that that, looking back, she even felt a little proud.
“At the time, I didn’t know… that I’d end up dying at the hands of the brat I saved…”
Sarah, reminiscing about the past, cut off the story before it reached its tragic conclusion.
Still, at least he had been somewhat cute as a child…
As she recalled the only vivid memory of the young boy’s face, Sarah clicked her tongue in disapproval.
By the time she encountered Enoch again years later, he had grown into a man. Handsome, certainly, but not remotely cute.
He had become a stiff, humorless, thoroughly irritating adult who might as well have been made of iron.
He didn’t even seem to recognize the benefactor who had saved him as a child.
Well, if he had recognized her, he wouldn’t have killed her.
Or would he? Would he still have stabbed me if he’d known? That oh-so-great and noble hero?
“Maybe you just don’t know that person well enough, Master? You’re not a god, so how could you fully understand someone else’s heart? Unless you’re saying you’re that exceptional…?”
So, if nothing else, Enoch Soser had no right to comment on Sarah’s character.
Truly, Enoch was the only person who had ever been saved by Sarah’s troublesome personality. If he hadn’t been someone valuable to the Emperor, Sarah would never have opened the door for him.
“Honestly, you never let anything slide.”
With each piercing remark, Enoch laughed as though he had expected it.
Perhaps finding no way to refute her, he didn’t add anything more to the topic.
“Coming from a slave…”
Instead, he scolded Sarah for daring to keep talking back to him.
“If you’re so upset, why don’t you be the slave, then?”
“Haha!”
Of course, Sarah didn’t back down this time either.
This time, Enoch seemed genuinely caught off guard, letting out a startled laugh before grabbing Sarah’s cheeks and squeezing them as if in retaliation.
“Looks like you’re doing well now, huh? You’re getting talkative.”
“Yes. Well, thanks to you, I think I’ll survive now.”
Since that much was undeniable, Sarah begrudgingly acknowledged it, offering something that could loosely pass as gratitude.
“Well then, now that you’ve warmed up, it’s time to send you off.”
Was that the moment he had been waiting for?
Enoch sprang upright before Sarah could even finish her response.
“Huh…? Where to?”
Are we going out again?
Sarah’s eyes widened at Enoch’s sudden movement, as if he was about to suggest heading somewhere else.
In response to her question, he moved slowly—so smoothly and naturally that it didn’t immediately register as odd—climbing on top of her.
Like a hero naturally claiming his rightful place, he leaned close to the ear of the slave waiting for his answer and whispered their destination.
“Heaven.”
“…”
It was the very next moment that she realized he wasn’t talking about the literal heaven, but rather the metaphorical expression often used in bed.
“Ridiculous. I have no desire to go to a place like that.”
Sarah snorted softly and openly mocked his so-called “heaven.”
Even at this point, Sarah didn’t take the situation of Enoch being on top of her all that seriously.
There wasn’t much trust between her and Enoch, but she firmly believed that he wouldn’t want to sleep with a woman who looked like her.
“Stop joking around and get off—”
For that reason, she boldly tried to laugh off this situation, which anyone could see was teetering on the edge of something serious.
“What, what are you doing?!”
That is, until Enoch, still on top of her, suddenly took off his shirt.
“Why, why, why, why, why…?!”
Completely stunned, Sarah stammered, unable to even form a coherent sentence to ask why he was acting this way.
“It seems you’ve forgotten because you lost your memory.”
Enoch, as if perfectly understanding her confusion, kindly provided the answer.
“To get to heaven, you have to be naked.”
That’s the rule.
The hero’s lips curled into a steady smile as he spoke such nonsense with utter seriousness.
What kind of nonsense is that, you depraved bastard…?
Sarah thought it was indecent to see someone else’s naked body—especially Enoch Soser’s—but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his sculpted torso.
Perhaps anyone would react the same way if a naked person appeared before them.
So, this was unavoidable. You could call it an act of God—or, to exaggerate a bit, a reflex.
Just then, sunlight streaming through the window shattered against his face.
His peridot-colored eyes, softened by the sunlight, glittered like scattered jewels.
With his tall stature and broad build, he had always seemed a bit clumsy when wearing loose-fitting shirts. But now, with the fabric stripped away, his body was nothing but sleek and agile.
The muscles adorning his body were as smooth and refined as those of a predator. Every part of him was evenly developed, yet never to the point of looking overwhelming or intimidating.
His broad, perfectly square shoulders were adorned with well-developed deltoids, yet the slope from his neck to his shoulders was graced with just the right amount of muscle—nothing excessive or grotesque.
His broad chest looked so firm, even to the eye, that it seemed as though a mere press of a finger would meet resistance from the sheer strength of the muscle.
And his abs, tightly packed with not a single hint of slack, were nothing short of perfection.
Sarah felt as though she were looking at a masterpiece surpassing anything created by the renowned sculptors once summoned to the Soser Imperial Palace.
What was most astonishing, however, was that despite all the years he had lived, there wasn’t a single scar on Enoch Soser’s body. It was as if he had never once been in a position of weakness since birth.
Enoch, whose face was already beautiful, had a body that was just as—if not more—stunning.
Sarah, who was usually stingy with compliments, found no room for debate or compromise on this matter.
Who even is this man?
Sarah looked at Enoch with the wary expression of someone meeting a stranger for the first time.
The Enoch Soser she knew was always impeccably dressed, his properly covered figure giving off the impression of a well-mannered nobleman even from afar. Yet, with just one layer of clothing removed, he felt like an entirely different person.
“Isn’t it hard? You should breathe a little.”
Enoch, who had been displaying his body as if on exhibition, asked in a mock-serious tone.
“…!”
It was only then that Sarah realized she had been holding her breath while staring at his body. For some reason, her mouth was also filled with saliva.
Consciously catching her breath, Sarah reflexively swallowed. Gulp. The sound was absurdly loud—loud enough for Enoch, who was sitting on top of her, to clearly hear it.
“N-no. This, this is…”
Flustered, Sarah tried to explain that her reaction wasn’t due to any lewd thoughts.
But once her ability to speak had broken down, it didn’t recover just because she wanted it to. She could only mumble incoherently like a dumbfounded animal for a while. Enoch watched her struggle with curious eyes.
Ever since they’d met, Sarah had always been quick to retort no matter what he said, even when he himself had been naked. Now, seeing her react this way just because he had done something as common as taking off his shirt, seemed to amuse him greatly.
“Hey. You can just touch it if you want.”
Perhaps wanting to tease her further, Enoch grabbed Sarah’s hand and placed it on his chest.
“*Gasp…*!”
The moment her palm touched his firm, warm skin, Sarah jumped as if burned and tried to pull her hand away.
“I said, touch it.”
But her attempt was thwarted when Enoch pressed down on the back of her fleeing hand.
“Eek!”
Another incomprehensible sound escaped Sarah’s lips.
Enoch gently patted her trembling hand, as if comforting someone undergoing electric torture.
“It’s fine. This way, we’re even.”
Because I’m going to touch you however I want, too.
Between his murmured words, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat thumped beneath Sarah’s palm.